


MorMor Drabbles

by KoreArabin



Series: MorMor Drabbles [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Plug, Bondage, Collars, Comeplay, Discipline, Fruit, Gags, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, S&M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin - MorMor drabbles.  Most probably utterly filthy, but this is a new writing form for me, so let's see where it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haute couture

Jim’s working, sitting at his desk, monitors and keyboards surrounding him. Dressed as immaculately as usual, shirt pristine and laundered to within an inch, McQueen tie and Chanel jacket clinging to his slight form. But, below the desk, he’s wearing only Moran, his cock buried to the hilt in Seb’s throat, Seb tethered between his legs with the collar and leash, arms bound behind his back, Seb’s cock locked up in a chastity device, his arse stretched out by the plug Jim worked into him over _hours_ of Seb’s agonised moaning. “I’m coming now, slut, swallow it all down, now.”


	2. Humbled

Jim’s kneeling on the coffee table, wrists cuffed, balls locked into the humbler.

Seb’s holding a single tail whip, a crop, and a handful of small cocodile clips. So far, he’s whipped Jim’s balls, clamped off the end of his cock, and given him a crocodile clip zipper right the way round from his foreskin and cock to his balls. Now Jim needs his arse stuffed.

The crop shushes Jim down and into the kitchen. Jim crawls awkwardly, the humbler making movement difficult.

Seb forces the thick, lubricated, squash into Jim’s arse. Jim wriggles, moans, and fucks himself on it.


	3. Hole

Jim has Seb in the leather hogtie, the strap around his neck holding his ring-gagged mouth up, fully open.

Jim shoves his cock into Seb’s mouth-hole, tugging the neck strap, and fucking into Seb’s throat. He stands, still, letting his cockhead rest against Seb’s throat, letting Seb know that he’ll be throatfucked until he pukes.

Jim thrusts into Seb’s gag, not caring how the man bound before him writhes, twists and chokes.

When Jim needs to come, he pulls out, spurting all over Seb’s mouth and face. “Lick it, slut, or wear it until your master fucks your mouth-hole again.”


	4. Spicing It Up

It’s a good thing that Seb keeps himself so fit and flexible, thinks Jim, running his fingertips idly over the curve of Seb’s buttocks. Not many men would be able to accommodate the strict hogtie, Seb’s wrists and ankles cuffed, the chains between them linked together by yet another set of cuffs. 

But this really is the perfect position for disciplining his sniper for his incredibly inappropriate display of insubordination. Perfect for inserting the fat plug of fresh, juicy ginger into his backside, before sealing his mouth shut with a thick swathe of duct tape, and leaving him to stew.


	5. Hanging Out

“You look so fucking lush.” Sebastian sits astride Jim’s hips, rubbing his crotch against him, their erections straining at the seams of their trousers. Jim’s bare-chested, his arms cuffed behind his back.

Sebastian rolls the heavy silver rings in his fingers, making Jim gasp as his reddened, puffy, nipples are twisted and pulled. He threads a separate length of picture wire through each of the rings, tying them off and hooking the end over his finger.

“You wanted me to do this to you, didn’t you? Up.”

And he half leads, half drags, a whimpering Jim through to the bedroom.


	6. Are 'Friends' Electric?

“Playing doctors is such _fun_ ,” Jim giggles, ratcheting the anal speculum open another painful notch. “Don’t you think, Sebby?” His sniper, strapped naked to the “examination table”, gurgles from behind the steel Whitehead gag. 

“No wonder Sherlock keeps his little doctor pet.” Jim rummages through the instruments in the autoclave, and takes Seb’s cock firmly in his latex-gloved hand. Seb struggles as the cold tip of the sound begins to sink into his urethra. “Apparently the shortest electrical circuit between a sound and a speculum is across the prostate; isn’t that _interesting_? Now, where _did_ I put that TENS unit?”


	7. Bad Attitude

“Open your legs. Wider. Present yourself properly to me.” Jim stands over his sniper, kneeling naked before him, arms cuffed behind his back, shoulders pressed to the floor, backside upturned and thighs spread open wide. He loops Seb’s belt over his hand, letting the end hang between his legs, slapping lightly against his balls.

“Daddy’s had enough of your lip and your bloody _attitude_. Daddy thinks that Sebby needs. To. Remember. His. Place.” Each word is punctuated by a lash to his buttocks and thighs. Seb whimpers into the carpet. His balls will be next. It’ll be a long night.


	8. Banana Splits

“You know you want it, you kinky little fuck. You want me to eat it out of your hole.”

Jim’s face is flushed with a combination of annoyance and arousal, trouserless and flat on his back on the kitchen floor, ankles grasped tightly in Seb’s hand and pushed up and back, his pert little bottom beautifully exposed.

“I wasn’t expecting you to fucking sodomise me with a ripe banana on the fucking kitchen floor!”

Seb smirks, flips Jim over and begins to tongue between his buttocks. 

“Yum. Banana splits are so scrummy. Next time don’t let me forget the cherry.”


	9. Tiger On A String

“Oh, Sebby, how _hard_ are you?” 

Hard, _painfully_ hard, as he’s been since Jim showed him his new toys: a stiff leather muzzle, a choke chain and leash, and an inflatable rubber plug, the pump and tubing of which are now swinging idly between his thighs.

“I’d have preferred a stripy one for my Tiger, but I think he likes his new tail? Show me how much you like it, pet.”

Seb’s cock rears up and dribbles with his humiliation as he wiggles his hips, wagging his ”tail” for his master. 

“Good boy. Now let’s teach you how to beg.”


	10. Certainly Not Wimbledon

“Cream for me, come for you.”

They’re totally naked on the bed, Seb’s wrists bound to the headboard, Jim straddling his hips. On Seb’s stomach are a puddle of cold, congealing come, a punnet of strawberries and a pot of cream.

Jim takes a couple of strawberries, coating the first liberally with come before popping it into Seb’s mouth, then dips the second into the thick cream for himself. 

“I’d rather have the cream, you bastard.”

“Of course you would, darling. But Daddy wants you to eat up all your come, so swallow it down like a good little Sebby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strawberries and cream are simply _de rigueur_ at Wimbledon, darlings.


End file.
